


Love me while your wrists are bound

by Sabrielle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Porn With Plot, Rated for future chapters, Slow Build, tags updated per chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-06-22 07:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19662460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabrielle/pseuds/Sabrielle
Summary: You two have to stop meeting like this.As a lady who's house is pledged to Robb Stark, you and Jaime Lannister do not see eye to eye. Despite this, something seems to keep drawing you together.





	1. First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Here we have Jaime Lannister pre-attitude adjustment. Cocky and sarcastic, enjoy!
> 
> I took the liberty of meshing the book and show in certain minor parts, per preference and flow.

You had never been very fond of the Riverlands, especially at this time of the season. They were even more wet than usual and wherever the army camped the ground was churned up into mud within half a day. Nevertheless, you left Robb Stark’s tent in a positive mood. After his triumph at the Whispering Wood Robb had offered you a boon.

The sky pissed rain as you picked your way across the main camp to your tent. It was the hour of the bat. Your body ached from battle, but you could not rest yet. Nodding to the two guardsmen, you pulled aside the flap to your personal tent, a deserved sign of your status and rank as the head of one of the largest houses north of the Riverlands . 

Finally, you were at ease, protected from the damp, away from the constant bickering of the other lords, with the golden lion of the Lannister’s bound and waiting at your pleasure.

The battle of the Whispering Wood was not a day old, yet manacled and tired as he must be, Jaime appeared smugly defiant. His wrists were chained behind his back, his ankles as well were hobbled with rope. Despite this, the plush and warm interior of your tent was quite an improvement on his previous cell.

Your young cousin was a squire in Kings Landing and your aunt and uncle had not heard from him in some months. They had not declared for the Lannisters or the Starks as of yet, most likely because of your cousin's precarious position down south. Suspecting some unfortunately foul play, with Robbs approval you had the lion pulled from his cage and brought before you. You cared for the wellbeing of your cousin, he was just a boy, but Robb cared more to add another house to his cause.

You kept your face carefully neutral. You had played the game since you were sixteen, named lady of your hold. Men and women alike had come to you asking favours and requesting your help in settling disagreements. Being the one in power had become easy for you, it was not so pleasing for you to be at a disadvantage.

Purposefully taking your time, you tussled some of the water from your hair and tossed your cloak and fur mantle onto a chair to dry next to the merrily crackling brazier.

"You'd make a very pretty head to send back to Cersei." Circling the stool you fingered the hilt of the blade on your belt. You knew, across the camp, Robb argued with the Umbers and Karstarks over Jaime’s fate. Many wanted him dead.

Jaime Lannister, for his part, seemed annoyingly unbothered. He rolled his shoulders. “I do believe the Queen would much prefer the head of your Wolf King… my lady.” The title was delivered sarcastically, almost as an afterthought. Finishing your turn you come to face him, wearing your sweetest smile.

“Well… _Ser_... I did not bring you here to bandy about insults-” 

Jaime cut you off. “I know. You want word of the Westbrook boy… your cousin was it?”

After pouring yourself a cup of warm wine you began to move around your tent, removing your riding leathers. His look was sly. "Was he the one maimed by the Mountain? Or could he have been the one killed when thrown from his horse?... It's hard to say, they go through squires so quickly." He mocked you with his feigned concern, but you exercised patience. He was baiting you.

Leaning against a table, you held the cup of wine but did not drink it. "You're very glib, considering your situation. 

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "And what exactly is my situation?"

You sipped the mulled wine only to keep from grimacing. The man was maddeningly handsome and he knew it. Even covered in dirt and blood his lazy smile and air of indifference were disarming in their charm.

"You, as a prisoner of battle, are going to answer the questions I have as to the wellbeing of my coz. Then, if it pleases me, I will speak in your defense when King Robb decides on your fate." 

"And if I don't," here he paused, his tone suggestive "...please you? You'll throw your lot in with the other northmen who want me executed? How very noble of you."

"I'm sure you don't know the meaning of the word. Now shall I throw you back to your kennel? Or are you able to make yourself of some us to me?" You kept your tone dangerously even.

Jaime enjoyed his ability to coax a rise out of you, for your threats only seemed to entertain him.

He laughed aloud, "I imagine I could be. Maybe you prefer Southern men now? Everyone knows Robb Stark chose a homely Frey girl over a marriage to you."

You had never had to deal with outright insolence before. Even Robb Stark deferred to you as one of the only women able to run her own bannermen and house. Jaime's taunt caused you to colour involuntarily. It was true, many had expected Robb Stark to pick a northerner to take to wife. The snub had pricked your pride even though Lady Catelyn swore it was needed to win the crossing of the Twins without bloodshed.

Drawing your knife in frustration and embarrassment you brandished it in his direction. A thousand scathing remarks burned on the tip of your tongue, none of which would get you the knowledge you wanted.

"Would you prefer the rain?" You growled. "If you have nothing of worth to say..."

Jaime seemed annoyingly unperturbed. "If you intend to treat me like a dog, could you scratch me just on my neck here? I would help myself, but as you can see, I'm a bit indisposed at the moment." He shrugged, hands still bound, to illustrate his point. 

Leaning over him, you gently scraped it along his neck, underneath his ear, down to his collarbone. Your heart beat a rapid rhythm in your chest. You convinced yourself it was pent up anger from Jaime’s taunts reigniting your battle fury and not your proximity to the handsome man that caused it.

"Better men than you have fallen to their knees before me," daringly, you flicked the collar of his jerkin open even further with the tip of your knife, "and bigger men have died at my feet. You are welcome to chose."

He held your scathing gaze, arrogantly. You hated it.

"Well, you're in luck. I'd love to show you exactly what I'm capable of, if you just let me out of these pesky chains…."

You laughed and continued to idly trace his jawline with the sharp end of the blade. "I don't think so. You're very pretty, but not that pretty." 

He rolled his shoulders again. "Don't say I didnt-"

You watched his eyes dart to the door and you knew. Before Jaime could move you had thrown him backwards off the stool, trapping his wrists beneath him.

"Bastard!" You swore as you fought to straddled his chest, keeping him pinned. Sure enough the ropes that had hobbled his ankles were loose and unraveling around his boots. Jaime had been distracting you in attempt to free his bonds. He strained only twice in an attempt to throw you off him before giving up. Clearly the battle had taken more of an toll on him than he was willing to show. 

“Not the way I planned on spending this night but-”

“Quiet!” you hissed, furtively glancing back at the entrance. The drum of the rain would mask some sound, but if the guards came to haul Jaime away you were unlikely to get the answers you needed from anyone else.

“Oh?” Jaime murmured. “What a compromising situation for the Starks to find you in. Not so entitled now, are you?"

You gripped his hips with your thighs tightly, running through your options in your head. You'd need to re-tie the hobble or call the guards in-

"Shall I call the guards? Or do you want the honour?"

You wanted to smack him, if only to shut him up for a second. Instead, you tried one last time to plead with him. "If you have any honour as a knight, please, tell me what you know of the fate of my cousin."

With a sudden push of force Jaime propped himself on his forearms, chained as they were. His face was mere inches from yours, which made you very aware of your compromising position; straddling the Kingslayer's lap, hands fisted into the collar of his shirt, both of you panting softly from the struggle.

But the fleeting moment was gone in a breath as Jaime let himself fall back onto the plush rug.

His golden hair fanned about his head and his eyes glinted with light from the brazier. In that moment, you saw the lion, so thoughtless in his surety.

"I'm sorry," he laughed softly "I have no knowledge of the little fool."


	2. The Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet with Robb Stark, he has a request of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the encouragment guys :) I have a lot of time to write, so here is part 2 a bit earlier than I had planned. I can't wait to start Ch.3!

The guards that entered at your call to retrieve Jaime did not speak. The looks they gave you said enough. Before being propelled through the doorway of your tent Jaime winked at you impudently. Everything seemed to amuse him, especially your frustration. Making a resolute decision to push thoughts of Jaime Lannister out of your head, you washed your face and re-fastened your cloak. It was time to speak with your King.

"Explain." 

It was the hour of the wolf. The other northern lords had left the main tent to tend to their own needs and that of their house. Robb stood at the head of the heavy wood table, expression questioning, eyes alight with a hint of irritation. Your face and neck burned with chagrin.You bow stiffly, almost as an afterthought. 

Robb and you had known each other from a young age. At least once a year your families had joined each other in feasts and festivals. Being reprimanded by him was a special kind of torture, especially since you had once been considered as a potential match.

You crossed your arms. "Hmmm. I stopped a dangerous prisoner from escaping?" 

Robb’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “Did you find out about the fate of your cousin?”

“No.” You’re voice wavered slightly. “I have the sincere belief that he knows, but refuses to speak, my King.” You added Robb’s title in for extra measure, to soften your first petulant statement. 

“Did you get any information that would help us sway your cousin’s house to our cause?”

“No.”

Sighing, Robb seemed to return to the man you knew. He leaned on the war table, eyes scoring the map. “You know I am ever thankful for your loyalty and support. Your father was a vassal to the Starks and your mother was fostered for several years at Riverrun. Our family ties run for hundreds of years throughout history.” His eyes met yours. “You are an asset as the lady of your house and one of the only people I would trust with my life.” Picking up a carved wolf’s head from the table Robb placed it on the border of the Reach and the Riverlands, atop your cousin’s lands. “Which is why I trust you with Jaime Lannister’s.” His voice took a grave tone. “If the Westbrook’s pledged for us, we would have a proper foothold in the Reach, and your Uncle, an honourable man from the Riverlands himself, could prove a beacon for other southern houses.” 

You licked your lips, but said nothing, watching Robb circle the table to stand before you. His face softened and he smiled. “I know you’re clever, you’ve beat me at cyvasse almost every time we’ve played.” He squeezed your shoulder “I need you to find some leverage from Jaime. Anything.”

Nodding, you placed a hand on Robb’s arm and returned the affable squeeze. “Of course.”

The next weeks were a slow blur. You and most of your men were stationed at Riverrun. Delegated to small reconnaissance missions, hunting parties and other humdrum camp tasks you and yours passed the days in monotony.

Jaime was as coy as ever. Nothing seemed to diminish his arrogance. Today he grinned at you wolfishly from behind the bars of his prison. 

“Can’t seem to stay away I see. I have that effect on women.” 

You were used to his cheek by now. “Clearly.” Your tone was curt but you couldn’t hide the quirk of your lips. “Enjoy your morning?”

“Of course,” his gaze slides over you and continues on to the bustle of camp life outside his cell “A bowl of warm water is nice but, a bath, now that would be something to talk about.” Jaime sighs and closes his eyes. When he opens them next, he’s staring at you. “I could tell you anything I wanted about him. I could lie, tell you whatever I thought you wanted to hear.”

“You could.” You conceded as you crouched to meet his gaze. “And you would still be in the same stinking cage, wishing for a wash basin of water.” The wind billows your cloak and ruffles the fur of your mantle. It smelt like frost. “We both know no oaths hold you, Jaime Lannister.”

His face had lost any of the temerity he usually wore, instead his eyes were cold and perceptive. “He’s dead.” Jaime says flatly.

Your say nothing and try not to betray the surprise you feel.

“I hope the knowledge brings you some pleasure.”

“How?” It's a demand more than a question. 

You can’t tell if he is indeed lying or telling you the truth, but it doesn’t really matter. You will still need to notify Robb, and pass along a warning to your Aunt and Uncle.

Jaime leans towards where you crouch on the other side of the iron grating. “ I think that deserves a bath, no? a feather pillow maybe?” He huffs a laugh and rests his back against the bars. “Lannisters always pay their debts, as everyone is always so fond of saying. My father and sister are not known for their indolence.”

Again, you cannot tell if he is threatening you or simply teasing for his own amusement.

“I’m sure your sister misses you dearly.” 

The barb is not lost on him. Jaime doesn’t even look to you, but his shoulders tense. He laughs, “If only someone missed you.” You bite your lip, hard, to keep from retaliating. It’s true, the only ravens you receive from home are updates from your steward on the state of the harvest or the goings on in your holdfast. You have no close family left alive to comfort you, nor a lover to warm your bed. Both you and Jaime are adept at getting under one another’s skin. The hard part was to not acknowledge it.

“Tomorrow then.” You stand and dust yourself off. Turning on your heel you don’t look back, weaving through the camp. Jaime watches you go. Regret is not a familiar feeling to him. It ate away at his thoughts in a steady trickle, and he had much too much time to think here. 

The next morning you are woken from a fitful sleep by loud voices and the milling of many feet, the camp is in an uproar like an agitated beehive. 

Jaime Lannister is gone. 


End file.
